


Here Be Monsters

by OhOkayGrey



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Demons, Dominant Kylo Ren, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fae & Fairies, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Light Dom/sub, Not really though, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Spells & Enchantments, There's A Tag For That, Witchcraft, Witches, but he is sort of nice, but like barely, i guess, so are you lol, sort of a creepy vibe, very very light a/b/o, winter is coming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 08:53:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20945648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhOkayGrey/pseuds/OhOkayGrey
Summary: Looking up and out the old weathered window, she locked eyes with the pale yellow of what could only be a Familiar. Unbonded it would seem, as the creature radiated the sort of anxious power that could only belong to that which had no tether. Curiously, they remained there, silently locked into a staring contest fueled by ancient curiosity. The Witch had never tried to bond with a Familiar before; seeing as she was just a simple kitchen witch, she had never felt the need to seek out more power. This creature seemed though as if perhaps it had something to say.  Free Familiars were lawless creatures, killing and stealing and taking full advantage of their unbridled power to play tricks on unsuspecting, naive witches and warlocks. Thus, she hesitated.





	Here Be Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> I WRITE WHEN I CANT SLEEP AND THEN AM TOO IMPATIENT TO EDIT PREPARE FOR GARBAGE.

Once upon a time, there was a lonely witch who lived in a small cottage by the sea. The salty ocean air carried life to the trees that lined the coast, hiding her little house deep inside the greenery that reached for the skies. Her family had all long since past, so she took to her studies and gardening to keep herself busy. Some days she set out making little offerings to the pesky Fae that liked to pray on her fresh herb garden, other days you could find her gently stirring a bubbling pot of warm witches stew, full of spells to ward off the chills as winter settled upon her home.  
Winter crept slowly and steadily into the heart of her land, preserving everything in its wicked frost and slowly stealing moments of light and sun from each and every day. So slow in fact, that one would hardly notice it until it was too late. The air was sharp like a blade that morning, and as night settled and a near-but-not-quite full moon teased the sky, it only got colder.  
She puttered around the kitchen slowly, gently spinning her fingers in the air to stir her tea. The old gramophone that sat on her overflowing kitchen table turned steadily, lifting jazz into the air just slowly enough to make the skin crawl. A snap of her fingers and a fire roared to life in her hearth, brilliant shades of purple and green that danced in and around one another in their iridescent ember cadence. Humming gently, she set about flicking through the pages of an old recipe book that had been past down since The Beginning, and stalled when she felt the telltale slither of her intuition sliding up her spine. Looking up and out the old weathered window, she locked eyes with the pale yellow of what could only be a Familiar.  
Unbonded it would seem, as the creature radiated the sort of anxious power that could only belong to that which had no tether. Curiously, they remained there, silently locked into a staring contest fueled by ancient curiosity. The Witch had never tried to bond with a Familiar before; seeing as she was just a simple kitchen witch, she had never felt the need to seek out more power. This creature seemed though as if perhaps it had something to say. Free Familiars were lawless creatures, killing and stealing and taking full advantage of their unbridled power to play tricks on unsuspecting, naive witches and warlocks. Thus, she hesitated. It certainly wouldn’t be wise to confront the beast, nor would it be best to turn her back. It was ancient law that, should she dismiss its inquisition and stare, the familiar was granted permission to challenge her. Generally that would mean her untimely and unpleasant death, and so she sat a little longer, quietly trying to see if it would make a move.  
Her clock ticked on steadily, small gusts of wind occasionally brushing against the worn side of her house, creaking and breaking her out of her reverie. The tea was certainly cold by now, and her fire was emitting a low whine; the burning demon was asking for another log to consume. That settled it then, this creature wasn’t going to leave her be anytime soon, and she simply didn’t have the means to defend or defeat such a thing. Quickly casting a small protection spell over her little form (though she knew good and well it would do her no good) and slipping some fire agate into her pockets as she went, she marched over to her door and opened the warbled knob quickly. Such a thing needed to be met with diligent haste.  
The moment she had taken her eyes off of its form, she felt his energy shift and stir. Now, before her in the open doorway stood what looked to be a man. Pale yellow eyes were situated under a heavy sloping brow, hair dark and billowing about his head in the wind, and he looked down at her then, past his long sloping nose. Swallowing thickly, she let out a tentative hello, hoping that the Familiar would soon make its intentions clear. Saying nothing, he simply tilted his head. The movement was almost imperceptible, and she hardly caught it as her lashes brushed against her face, blinking. He was no longer in front of her.  
Not gone though, he certainly wasn’t gone. She could feel him still, and she had known opening the door was just as much of a risk as ignoring him. After all, an open door was a bound invitation.  
Her heart rate skyrocketed, and she felt her stomach start to flip uneasily. Taking one last glance up at the glowing moon, she gently closed the door and turned to face her fate, which was starting to feel more and more grim. Familiars were known for being clever shape shifters, but there were always telltale signs of their designation in the slightly unusual, and sometimes altogether impossibility of their human features. Aside from the yellow eyes, perhaps one would notice the way that his frame seemed a little too large, his nails a little too thick and curved. The hair along her arms stood on end, and she felt her skin crawl from the unnerving feeling of watching those inquisitive eyes stare her down from inside the sanctity of her kitchen. Still, he did not speak, and she was so unsure of her own voice and how she knew it would waver that she didn’t dare open her mouth. Ice ran through her veins, and she stood there, waiting. His eyes began to roam over her little house, hesitating over some small details, as if questioning her design ability, before once again settling on her. Raking over her faint and nearly shaking form, his eyes lingered for a moment, narrowed, and then he took a decisive step forward.  
Her spine went stock straight, adrenaline and uncertainty coursing through her body like a drug, and she felt woozy with the fear and confusion of it all. Still no answers, no making sense of such strange behavior. A gasp got stuck in her throat as his too light and lithe steps brought him much much too close to her, close enough to touch, certainly close enough to kill. She managed one last look at her end, her fate, one last wavering glance at his pale yellow gaze, slowly lifting his hand that would surely bring about her demise, before her eyes screwed themselves shut, bones and body tense enough to snap, breath stuck in her lungs and refusing to leave her body.  
She felt the feather light scrape of nails against her cheek, a pressure so light she would’ve thought it phantom under any other circumstance, and then an ear splitting chime soar through the air. The clock had struck twelve, and he was gone. The sound took a moment to register, her eyes flying open as she felt the burn of dying air swelling in her lungs. Exhaling sharply, and taking raspy short breaths to quell her faintness, she spun around frantically trying to locate the entity that had stood before her moments before. She knew though, because not only was he nowhere to be seen, she could no longer feel his presence. As her body began to decompress, she was flooded with relief, but couldn’t help but remain on edge. His behavior had been nothing short of unusual, and the young witch now felt as though she was wearing a target on her back. There was no mistaking the underlying threat in the occurrence, and she couldn’t help but feel like the least favored item on a dinner plate- simply being played with, before eventually being ate.  
Slowly running her hands up and down her arms to fight of the deadly fearful chill, she focused once more on trying to feel for his presence. Once again assured that he was nowhere to be found, she robotically moved through the motions of setting another log on her hungry fire. Paying so little attention, she let out a small curse as her hand brushed against the flame and felt her flesh burn in protest of the danger. The rest of her night surely seemed normal enough, but her mind was running amuck with uncertainty, and it took hours of pacing and paranoid glances out the window before she decided it was time to make a strong sleeping tonic. For better or worse, she was going to need to sleep. Perhaps the pretty familiar would take pity on her and simply kill her in her sleep. Room full of plumes of lavender and mint, and stomach warmed with the ether guaranteed to force her into rest, she pulled on a tattered nightdress and settled into her bed for a fitful night of sleep. Cold sweat slicked her skin, smattered with moisture that was beginning to cling to her once silky sheets. Her hair was matted against her forehead as she began to toss and turn uncertainly. Her unconscious mind brewed away, stirring together all of her prominent fears with her unabashed thoughts. Images of burning eyes and full lips mingled with her fear of a thick, sharp finger nail sliding across her thigh, splitting open and beading with her blood as the appendage traveled across her flesh. Part of her brain started to burn then, urging her to wake up as it registered the presence of another in her proximity.  
He sensed her quickening pulse, felt her conscious mind fighting to try and wake her despite the potion running through her body like led, and simply waved his hand over her squirming form to deepen her sleep. He watched intently as her furrowed brow relaxed, mouth softening from its sleepy scowl, and her breathing evened out once more. Saliva began to pool between those petal soft lips, sliding innocuously past them and across her flushed cheek. She had long ago kicked off her sheets and billowing comforter during her fitful so-called sleep, and his eyes raked over the exposed skin of her jutting collarbone, slowly, calculating.The nightdress tangled between the ample flesh of her legs, but only exposed the skin just above her knobby and bruised knee, peppered with scars and little beauty marks that seemed to cover her entirely.  
The creature made a low sound that rose from his chest, pleased with his ability to take her in like this. It aggravated him to feel her fear and uncertainty, made him impatient when he saw her eyes which were filled with fear. It was much simpler this way, to watch and observe her. He lifted one of those daunting, pale hands then, and gently pushed aside the damp and matted hair that clung to her forehead. The point of his nail roved down and to her mouth, dragging slightly at the pouty lips that coquettishly sat in front of him. What the girl didn’t know, was that he had been watching her long before that night.  
The land that she lived on, had long since belonged to the ancient spirit. The house had sat unoccupied for centuries, it’s disrepair and distance from town had helped it become forgotten. The moment the little witch had staked her claim there and set about purging and cleaning up its gardens and farm beds that littered the property, he began to watch her. Spring turned to summer, and as the temperatures rose he waited to see if she had any family, or perhaps a mate. As fall came to pass, he decided that, no, she certainly had neither, but he liked to watch sweat roll down her skin. When the cold winter had snuck into the ground and the air, he decided that he rather enjoyed the way she had cleaned up the little house, and the warm light the pooled out from the tattered little windows. Normally by now he would have eaten, or at least scared off anyone who bothered trying to inhabit the structure, especially because he had no interest in becoming a bonded familiar. Any who dared, had met a vulgar and untimely demise. This little long haired witch seemed more concerned about her cooking and gardening than the power that a Familiar could offer her. And so on that cold December day, he had become curious and bored, and grown rather tired of simply watching her putter around her home, oblivious as ever. She smelt nice, like spiced cider and clove, and so he waited. She had noticed him fairly quickly, and he couldn’t help the rumble in his chest when her wide eyes had finally locked with his.  
Immediately, he could smell her fear, and it was bitter and sharp and overpowering, and the last thing he wanted to taste on the back of his throat. Once inside her worn out home, he realized the little witch was easily frightened, and so he had decided to let her be. Her rest had been fitful though, and he couldn’t help the touch of guilt he felt knowing that he was the reason why. He returned then, just to calm her and take away her uneasiness so that she could properly sleep. He should’ve known, that it would be a daunting task to leave once he saw her so subdued and vulnerable. In the months that had past since he began to observe her, he had found himself drawn to her in a way that he certainly didn’t experience with most damnable humans. It puzzled him, but in a way that perhaps wasn’t bad. Her thoughts were loud, especially before he forced her brain into a fog, and he felt the way her fear and curiosity had mixed together, creating a sharp and hesitant excitement that carried in the heady air.  
Slowly, he began to push the silk of her nightdress up from the tender skin of her knee, up and up until it had just exposed the pale expanse of her thigh. Humming in appreciation, he let the rough tips of his fingers drag and catch on her flesh for a moment, before he dipped the appendage down, just enough to scrape against the defenseless skin that passed beneath it. The flesh of her thigh protested, breaking just ever so slightly and turning a pale red, a reminder that what he was doing, was not agreeable. Blood pooled faintly under his nail, just little enough that he knew she would almost not notice it tomorrow. Almost.  
Enough was enough though, and he didn’t want to overstay his welcome that, frankly, he didn’t have. No, scaring her more simply wouldn’t do. Pulling her scrappy dress down once more, and chastely tucking her into the comforter, he cast one last long look at her peaceful visage, and took his leave.

She awoke that very next morning, feeling more rested than she had in many many moons. It was when she drew herself a bath, that she noticed the faint sting against her thigh. Puzzled, she looked down to find the healing remains of a protection symbol etched into her flesh. Though a tenuous amount of fear flickered in her mind, she also knew then, that for whatever reason, the beast had no intention of hurting her.

Days came to pass, and she was starting to notice the gently overpowering presence of the familiar that wandered the wood. He had yet to reveal himself to her again, and she dared not trek out into the snow to find him. It began to comfort her to be able to feel him; she thought that maybe it was making her feel just a bit less alone.


End file.
